


Crossroads

by timehopper



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Lovers, Lovers To Enemies, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27087871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timehopper/pseuds/timehopper
Summary: Ashe’s arm trembles as he follows the wyvern with the tip of his arrow. He tries to tell himself that it's just the heat getting to him, that the sweat trickling from his temple to his jaw is just because of the temperature.He's never been much of a liar, even to himself.Ashe knows exactly what to expect when the battle at Ailell begins. What he doesn't expect is just how hard it will be to see Claude again.
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	Crossroads

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Silverdrift](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverdrift/gifts).



> Alternate summary: Ashe meets an "old flame" at Ailell. ;D (I'm so sorry.)
> 
> This was my half of a fic trade with [Silver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverdrift)! When you have the chance, please go check out her half of the trade too -- and her other fics! She does great work!!

In the back of his mind, Ashe had known this would happen. 

The moment the Imperial spy had reported the movements of the Church of Seiros to Rowe and word had travelled down to his unit that they would be departing for Ailell, Ashe had known exactly who and what he would find there. 

He had known, even then, that if the Knight's of Seiros were going to be there to meet troops from House Daphnel, then there was no way _he_ wouldn't be there too. So when he sees the wyvern flying overhead, carrying the leader of the Leicester Alliance atop its back, he feels nothing but a dull, hollow sense of resignation.

He looks up. Tracks the movement of the wyvern -- northwest, soaring on an updraft. Ashe nocks an arrow, draws back his bowstring, and takes aim. He feels nothing until the realization of what he’s about to do settles in. Only then does his grip waver.

Ashe’s arm trembles as he follows the wyvern with the tip of his arrow. He tries to tell himself that it's just the heat getting to him, that the sweat trickling from his temple to his jaw is just because of the temperature.

He's never been much of a liar, even to himself.

He doesn't want to do this. He really doesn't. Ashe hadn't wanted any of this -- hadn't wanted to come to Ailell, hadn't wanted to side with the Empire over his friends, hadn't wanted to be a part of this terrible war in the first place. All he had wanted was to honour the family he had lost, and to keep the family that remained safe. 

But he's here now, and he's fighting, and if he doesn't kill his old friends, then they're going to kill him. So Ashe shoots, aiming right for the wyvern's heart, intent on knocking its rider off and watching him plummet to the ground. 

He misses. 

The wyvern rolls in midair, just barely avoiding the arrow. It's enough to alert its rider to Ashe's presence, and before he knows it, the great beast is upon him, jaw split open to reveal lines upon lines of sharp, ferocious teeth. And for one horrid, dreadful moment, Ashe thinks that's how he's going to meet his end.

It's not. The wyvern rushes past in a harsh, hot gust of wind, and Ashe nearly falls over with the force of it. But when the wind settles, he is left standing right where he is, uninjured but far from unharmed. 

Rock and charcoal crunch beneath heavy black boots, somewhere behind Ashe. He turns, knowing what -- who -- he’s about to see, and dreading the smile that awaits him. 

"Long time no see, Ashe."

Standing before the great white wyvern, Failnaught in hand and arrow pointed right between Ashe’s eyes, is Claude von Riegan. 

"It's been a while, hasn't it?"

That smile. So much like the one he had worn at the academy, back before the world turned on his head. It had been a comfort when they were younger -- a smile in the face of hardship, laughter when there was nothing to laugh about. But now, Ashe sees it for the warning it is. 

Claude is not going to let him leave. 

Before he can think not to, Ashe takes a step back. He reaches for the quiver slung over his back, hand hovering over the fletching of an arrow. Claude shifts, redirecting his aim at it. 

"Come on,” he says, the laughter in his voice forced. “Is that any way to greet an old friend?" 

Ashe swallows. He doesn't point out that Claude is the one currently aiming a weapon at him. Much as he may want to. It hardly matters, though; not even a second later, Claude lowers the bow, and his smile widens. 

It’s fake. So fake, and so unlike the precious few smiles Ashe had been lucky enough to see when they were alone.

Claude steps forward. He opens his arms, and for how out of place his smile is, something about it is still horribly comforting. He is charming, as always -- and just as purposefully disarming. It sets off a warning in Ashe's mind -- this is Claude trying to gain his trust, trying to set a trap, trying to enact some sort of scheme -- and so he acts on instinct, drawing his bow quick as he can and aiming the arrow at Claude’s heart.

Claude doesn't look surprised. On the contrary, he _laughs_ , quiet and soft. He stops in his tracks anyway and, recognizing the threat, raises his hands. 

He surrenders -- or at least he makes a show of it. 

"I was hoping things wouldn't have to be this way," Claude says. His voice is sad, almost mournful, but still that smile lingers on his face, betraying his true thoughts -- or perhaps it’s trying to mask them.

Regardless, more than anything else, it scares Ashe. 

He starts when Claude sighs. "Oh well. Guess that just means it's my time, eh?" 

"You shouldn't be here." It’s a little bit late to say that now, but no other words come to Ashe’s mind. He’s trying to buy time. Trying, hopelessly, to convince Claude to leave. 

As expected, it doesn’t work. Claude simply shrugs. "Neither should you," he says. "And yet here we are."

His smile fades. He takes a step closer; Ashe recoils and draws the bowstring tighter. "Stop it, Claude! Don’t come any closer!"

"Or what?" And oh, there it is, that playfulness of his, that complete disregard for anything that he likely should deem a threat. Claude has seen worse -- survived worse. What’s an old classmate poised to strike him down, after everything he’s been through? Now more than ever, Ashe wonders what has made Claude so fearless in the face of death. "You're going to kill me, is that it?" 

"I…"

Claude takes another step closer. His hands are still up. "Go on, then," he says. "I'm ready."

It's a lie. Claude is calling his bluff. Ashe knows it, and somehow that makes it all the harder for him to do what he knows he needs to.

"I'm sorry, Claude," he whispers, just as Claude gets close enough to hear. "I have to. For Lonato."

Claude sighs. He's unusually serious now, silent as he waits for Ashe to loose the string and take his life. 

And it should be easy. It should be so, so _easy._ Ashe has killed before. He's killed lots of people. _So many people._ People he'd known, people he'd cared about. People who didn’t deserve it. Claude shouldn't be any different. Killing him means bringing the entire war one step closer to its end. It means Ashe can come one step closer to finding out why Lonato had to die.

And yet...

"Your hands are shaking." 

Ashe's eyes snap back into focus. Right back to Claude's eyes, green and deep and beautiful against the fires of Ailell. 

Claude steps closer. 

"You know, if you held the bow the way I taught you, shaky hands wouldn't be a problem."

He's so close now. Close enough to lay a hand over the tip of the arrowhead and touch the pads of his fingers to Ashe's knuckles.

And suddenly, Ashe is thrown back to their school days, vividly submerged in the memory of Claude's hands over his, adjusting his grip on a training bow and guiding his aim to a target. 

_"You're too tense,"_ Claude had said, no more than a murmur in his ear. _"Lower your shoulder a bit. Loosen your grip on the bow so your arm isn't so stiff. Or do you need me to help you relax?"_

Claude had been so warm back then, pressed up against him, chest-to-back and smiling in the corner of his vision. He'd been warm, too, when Ashe had dropped the bow, turned around, and kissed him. 

He's warm now, though whether it's from the heat of their surroundings or the memory of days long past, Ashe cannot tell. In the end, he supposes it makes no difference at all. 

"You're not going to kill me," Claude whispers. And though his voice is soothing, there is a finality to those words that Ashe cannot deny. One that chills him to his very core. 

He trembles. "I have to."

"You don't."

Claude lowers the bow. Ashe lets him, helpless to resist the gentle pressure of the hand over his, just as he had been all those years ago. 

Ashe’s breath hitches. 

“It’s okay, Ashe.” Claude smiles for him, and Ashe wants to believe him so, so badly. But how can he, when he’s been trapped in this horrible war, when he’s chosen to fight against his friends? When he’s chosen to fight against Claude himself? 

He opens his mouth, desperate to say so. Instead, all that comes out is a sob -- one, and then another, and then he’s crying into Claude’s shoulder and being pulled into the warm, loving embrace he had missed so much. 

“I understand,” Claude says, a low rumble vibrating in his chest. It’s even more a comfort than his words. “You’re here for Lonato. You chose to side with Rowe and the Empire because you want answers. You want to know what happened -- why Lonato had to die.” 

Another sob tears itself from Ashe’s throat. He grasps at Claude’s shirt, fingers clenching in the material. It’s all he can do when all the things he wants to say can’t, or won’t, settle into words. 

A hand settles on the back of Ashe’s head, combing through the long silver strands. It’s been so long since he’s had a haircut; and somehow, that thought is grounding. It’s silly to be embarrassed about how unkept he is in the middle of a war, when there are so many more things to worry about than appearances, but he is. He hadn’t wanted Claude to see him like this. 

But he’s here now. There’s nothing Ashe can do but let this happen -- let Claude see him for what he is, and take the only comfort that is left to him in this miserable battle. 

“I want to know, too.” 

The words pierce through Ashe’s mind like a thunder strike at night. He pulls back far enough to look Claude in the eye, but not far enough for him to let go. “Claude, you…” 

He nods. The hand on Ashe’s head moves to cup his cheek, touch delicate. It’s as if he’s afraid to break Ashe, fragile as he is right now. He’s probably right to be, Ashe thinks as he clings to that hand and wraps his fingers around Claude’s. 

“Come back with me, Ashe,” Claude pleads. “Fight against the empire with us. Fight them with _me_. We can find your answers together, I promise. Together we can find the truth.” 

He wants to believe him. Claude has always had a way with words, even if they were untrue. And right now, what he’s saying… it’s too hopeful. Too good to be true. 

And yet… Ashe _does_ believe him. He remembers the Claude from their academy days, staying up all night reading and searching and researching. He remembers Claude seeking answers for unspoken questions, looking for the truth hidden between the carefully-calligraphed lines in the monastery’s library. He’d always known so much more than he’d ever said, so much more than anyone else. 

And in that moment, remembering that smile illuminated by the dying glow of a candle burned down to the wick, Ashe knows. If anyone can find the truth, it’s Claude. 

He takes a step back. Claude offers Ashe his hand and a small, hopeful smile. “Come back to the monastery with me, Ashe. Come home.” 

And Ashe accepts it. He takes Claude’s hand: a silent pledge of loyalty, a wordless declaration of love. 

When the battle ends, Ashe remains by Claude’s side. And for the first time in five years, Ashe feels as though he's finally found a place where he belongs.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this and think you might like to see more, have a chat, or would like to get to know me, please check out my twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r).
> 
> And if you would like to find out how to support me, I have a handy list of links right [here](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r/status/1355219789560471554). Please check it out! I wouldn't be able to do this without people like you supporting me. ♥
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


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